


Hair

by mugsandpugs



Category: X-Men Evolution
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Backstory, Brotherhood of Mutants, Canonical Child Abuse, Daddy Issues, F/F, Father-Daughter Relationship, Manipulative Relationship, Mutant Powers, Partners in Crime, Recovery, The Brotherhood of Mutants is a Family, Theft, Underage Drug Use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 08:35:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25347820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mugsandpugs/pseuds/mugsandpugs
Summary: Her father loved her hair. He was always running his fingers through it, petting her like a show pony. The calluses on his palms sometimes snagged on the strands, but Tabby never winced. She'd been a daddy's girl from the start, and any attention from him was good attention.Incomplete and discontinued.
Relationships: Amara Aquilla/Tabitha Smith
Kudos: 12





	Hair

**Author's Note:**

> Me, writing this: My heart hurts :))))  
> Silver: Stop... writing it, then?  
> Me: Can't get over it, can't go under it, gotta go through it.

When she was little, her hair was as soft and fair as cornsilk; stark against her summer-tanned skin. Straight as a stick, it had never once been cut. It hung a few inches below her pink plastic belt.

"Your one beauty," her mother had called it, throwing in a wink to show that she was only kidding.

Her father loved her hair. He was always running his fingers through it, petting her like a show pony. The calluses on his palms sometimes snagged on the strands, but Tabby never winced. She'd been a daddy's girl from the start, and _any_ attention from him was good attention.

Aside from her hair, Tabby was a scraggly, dirty ragamuffin of a child, but that was fine; so were all the kids she played with. And such games they played! Epic adventures; wildly imaginative quests. Every stick was a sword; every moth, a fairy to follow; a dragon to slay.

A creek ran behind the trailer park, babbling over stones. Though sometimes murky, or lined with empty beer cans, catfish could be tickled out from their hiding spots and brought home for dinner. In the summertime, there were always crawdads. The singing of the bullfrogs was nigh deafening.

It was the perfect place for whispering secrets you didn't want anyone else to hear.

The summer Tabby turned eleven, she was nothing but gangly colt limbs and mountains of hair. 'Cousin Itt,' her dad jokingly called her; always with a grin. He was the funniest man at any barbeque.

Everybody knew Marty Smith was a scoundrel, always at odds with the law, but at least he was a lovable one. He was far too charismatic to hold a grudge against. Teenagers in particular loved him. The boys copied his loose posture and crooked smiles. The girls cracked their gum and giggled to each other when he complimented their swimsuits.  
  
Because of this, the "big kids" were a little nicer to Tabby than they were most kids her age. They let her hang out with them. The girls taught her how to dance, and the boys taught her how to hold a cigarette; how to inhale without coughing.

This afternoon was just a girl's day, however. Wren and Shawnee lounged in cutoffs, passing a joint with every secret, lost to the sounds of the creek.

"I'm sleeping with Connor before school starts. I really mean it this time," Shawnee said, scratching her calf with her toes. Wren snorted her disbelief, but didn't argue.

"I'm getting out of here," was Wren's secret. "I don't care who I have to buy or sell or screw to do it; I am _not_ growing old and dying in Crooked fucking Creek."  
  
Tabby lay flat on her back, her hands tangled in the tall grass. The smoke had made her dizzy, and she had the odd impression that if she let go, she might float away forever; an astronaut lost to space. She didn't notice right away when the girls looked at her.

"Go on, Tabs. What's your secret? Kissed a boy at the playground?"

Shawnee giggled, far harder than the teasing comment warranted. "No _way._ Tabby's still afraid of cooties, aren't you?"

Teasing her for being the baby again, huh? Tabby didn't really mind, especially with the world so soft and pink around the edges, but she still wanted a good secret to impress them with. When one occurred to her, a slow smile took an eon to creep across her face.

"Ooh, what's this?" Wren propped herself on one elbow, brushing her blue hair out of her eyes. "Tabitha _Smith!_ What's that smile about?"

Tabby absently tugged on a dandelion with her toes until the stem gave way. Crossing her legs, she waved it like a fancy lady might wave a handkerchief. "I," she said grandly; proudly. "Am my dad's _very_ special helper."

_Four Days Earlier_

**_._ **

"Alright, princess." Marty gripped her arms, looking down at his daughter outside Lynnhaven mall like they were two footballers in a huddle. They'd woken at the crack of dawn; bathed and dressed up nice; drove for hours in his wood-paneled Aspen to reach Virginia Beach in time for opening hours. "Are you hip to my jive?"

Tabby giggled. She loved when her dad talked funny. "I'm hip to be square!"

He beamed. Gave her Rainbow Dash hoodie a fond tug. She was too big for it, physically and mentally, and it was too warm for long sleeves, but it was a vital component to their plan. That had been dad's exact words: _vital component._

Tabby, too, was vital.  
  
Virginia Beach was beautiful. The smell of the ocean was everywhere; salt and brine carried on the gentle, warm breeze that ruffled Tabby's hair. It was a city with, as mama would say, 'more money than God.'

It was busy, too; there were people everywhere Tabby looked. More people than she'd ever seen in the same place before. And such people they were! In Crooked Creek, people were either black or white, and all were fairly conservative, save for a few goth girls. Here, people were every shade in between; skinny and fat, with tattoos and outrageous outfits and wild-colored hair. The kind of thing she only ever saw on MTV.

Tabby loved it. She wished she had more eyes to see it all. More mouths and ears to talk to everybody.

Even more, she loved the sprawling mall they were set to target today. At 26 acres across and boasting 180 stores, the mall felt like a city all of its own. A bright, high-ceilinged monolith of capitalism and wealth. And it was all theirs for the taking.

Dad offered her his pinkie. It was a family compromise... She'd always kicked up a fuss whenever mama tried to hold her hand in public. She wasn't a little kid anymore; she didn't have to _hold hands!_

Linking pinkies was less embarrassing. It looked like they were locking a secret, or playing a game. Dad always thought of the little things like that.

Still smiling, Tabby took his pinkie and walked with him into the AC blast of the Dillard's department store. She was excited about this new game, and a little nervous; too... It was a game a lot of people would think was bad. It was a game that could get her into big trouble. But dad had told her to do it, and do it, she would. 

Besides; they'd played similar games before, on a much smaller scale. Swiping groceries from Wegmans; stuffing cold packets of meat or bottles of Hennessy down her shirt because, as dad said, "no grocer would dare fish around in a little girl's clothes." And if they got caught, he said, all she had to do was turn her big blue eyes on them, maybe cry a little, and say she didn't know any better.  
  
It was a foolproof plan.  
  
Today, however; today was riskier.  
  
They walked through the sweet-smelling perfume section of the store. Dad, who was tall and blond and broad-chested, gave the cashiers a smile. They grinned at each other. Cooed over how cute Tabby was. She smiled, too; smiled like dad. All dimples and mischief.  
  
"We've gotta get Chloe an outfit for a birthday party," he explained. "Can you point us to the junior's section?"

'Chloe' was Tabby's fake name in today's mission. Dad said it sounded like a rich-girl name. Tabby thought it made her sound like a poodle.

Not only did the perfume saleswomen point them to the requested section, but they also rang up a clothing salesperson to help Tabby try on form-fitting jeans and high-top sneakers and ribbed tank tops made of strong material she knew would last. Everything smelled good and new. Every price tag made Tabby's gut twist deeper in a pretzel of a knot. _Holy shit,_ she thought. _Holy shit.  
  
_She dutifully tried things on once they'd ushered her behind a changing curtain, amazed at the difference good clothes made. Her legs looked longer. It added artificial curves to her stick-thin frame. She looked older.  
  
As they'd practiced, she waited a few minutes before calling in a nervous voice. "Dad? Can you come here?"  
  
"What is it, princess?" he asked, pushing through her curtains. Once there, they got to work fast, ripping tags; rolling clothes into tiny knots, storing them in dad's leather briefcase. Magnetic strips were scrambled with an even stronger magnet. That same magnet, and a pair of pliers, was then used to remove the anti-theft ink tags.  
  
Not two minutes later, they emerged from the changing room. Tabby hung her head in feigned embarrassment, while her dad kept a conciliatory arm around her shoulders. "Can you point us to the bathroom?" he asked their saleslady.  
  
"Oh! Oh, honey..." the woman looked at Tabby's face. She leaned in to whisper, loudly, "Do you need some supplies?"  
  
Tabby nodded, trying hard to conjure a blush. They watched as the woman disappeared behind the 'employees only' door, returning a moment later with a sanitary pad. She pointed them to the nearest bathroom. "It's okay, sweetie," she told Tabby, patting her arm. "It happens to all girls."  
  
Tabby kept her eyes down. Just like that, they were out of the store with hundreds of dollars of clothes to hawk.  
  
Dad was so proud he bought her an Orange Julius, and stole her a Tamagotchi from the electronics store.


End file.
